Saving Dudley Dursley
by Annamia
Summary: Dudley's parents are killed and he's plunged into a world of magic and confusion. M for language and violence.
1. Baptism through Fire

**Saving Dudley Dursley  
OR  
When Plot Bunnies Attack  
Kyra**

Chapter one: Baptism through fire

Dudley Dursley woke in the middle of the night on his cousin's seventeenth birthday and wondered what in _hell_ he was doing with his life. Sure, beating up ten-year-olds was fun. Smoking stolen cigarettes and sneaking sips from his father's hidden (or so _he_ thought) stash of whiskey was fun too. But, when all was said and done, it was a lousy choice of careers. Most of the time, he didn't think about that last, but on the 31st of July 1997, he found that it bothered him intensely. His stomach was making insistent demands to be fed, and he slipped out of bed and into the hallway. Diet or no, he wanted food, and he was going to get it.

To his surprise, the kitchen light was on. He slowed, frowning. His father slept like the dead, and his mother, no matter how many times she woke up, refused to leave her bed until seven thirty in the morning. So why was one of them in the kitchen at midnight? It didn't make any sense. Still, they were unlikely to do anything to him once he'd burst in on them, and he walked into the kitchen.  
His cousin was sitting at the table, casually eating his way though a plate of scones. Dudley stopped again, his mouth hanging open. "Where'd you get those?" he demanded.

Harry looked up, scowling. "Get lost," he said shortly. "You're not getting any."

Dudley didn't move. "I _said_, where'd you get them?"

"It's my birthday," Harry reminded him. "Just because _some_ people could care less doesn't mean that everyone does. For you information, my best friend Ron's mum made these, and you're _still_ not getting any."

Dudley blinked, trying to wrap his mind around the concept. "Your friends don't bake," he objected.

Harry rolled his eyes in disgust. "Of course they do! Unlike you, though, they know how to do it in moderation. There's bread in the fridge."

Dudley grunted and moved towards the fridge. Sure enough, there was a half-eaten loaf of bread displayed prominently in the front. He grabbed it, asking, "How did you know that?"

"I do the shopping here, remember?" Harry asked, in that patronizing tone that Dudley hated. Dudley glowered at him, but Harry only took the next-to-last scone and popped half of it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, obviously savoring the taste. With a scowl, Dudley turned back to his measly half-loaf of bread. It was getting stale. He stuck his head back into the fridge, hoping against hope that there was some kind of jam. He was out of luck, and he snagged the butter as compensation. He sat down heavily across from his cousin, trying not to look at Harry's goodies.

They ate in silence for a while. Harry neatly finished off the final scone and stretched back, not showing any signs on leaving. Dudley, whose mouth was full, didn't try to make him.

As the clock struck the half hour, Harry straightened with a small groan. He looked straight at Dudley, and, for the first time, looked almost afraid. Dudley was confused at that. Harry hadn't been afraid of him since he went off to his school six years before.

"Listen, Dudley," he said urgently. "And this is very important, so pay attention."

Dudley nodded, wondering just what Harry had to say.

"You don't know anything about what goes on at my school, which is just as well. But, basically, there's a terrorist out to get me. He's the one who killed my parents."

Dudley frowned. "Your parents were killed in a car crash," he reminded Harry.

A look of disgust crossed Harry's face. "No, they didn't. That's just a lie your parents told me to keep me from learning the truth."

"That they were murdered?" Dudley asked skeptically.

Harry nodded. "Just listen to me. When I was a baby, this terrorist – he calls himself Lord Voldemort, by the way – came into my house and killed my parents. He tried to kill me, but he couldn't. That's how I got this." He touched his scar. "When I first got to school, everyone thought that he was gone. But he isn't. He's back, and he wants to kill me."

"Why?" Dudley asked. Who in God's name would want to kill his cousin?

"Never mind," Harry said shortly. "You wouldn't understand."

Dudley frowned. He resented the slight to his intelligence, and he told Harry so.

"It's magic stuff," Harry said.

Dudley shuddered at the forbidden word, but didn't say anything. He wanted to know why Harry was telling him all of this _now_.

"Anyway, just accept that he wants me dead. Before she died, my mother ensured that, so long as I lived here, he couldn't get into this house. Unfortunately, that protection ends when I turn seventeen. That was today." He paused, glancing at his watch. "I think we still have a few minutes until it's official: I was born at one in the morning. After that, he can get in."

Understanding was slowly dawning in Dudley. "And he'll come after you?"

Harry nodded. "Exactly. When he does, it would be best if you and your parents weren't here."

"Why?"

Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Because Voldemort isn't particularly picky about who he kills while he's trying to get to his main target. You and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would just be in the way."

"But we're not… I mean, he's a…" Dudley couldn't say it, couldn't utter that one word.

Harry snorted. "Yes, he's a wizard." Dudley winced. "But you think he cares that you're not? To him, you're just a waste of space anyway. Trust me, he would have no qualms whatsoever about killing you."

"But why?" Dudley asked. He was well aware that he sounded like a broken record, but he couldn't get past that one essential question.

"Because he's insane," Harry said flatly. "Insane and evil. Do you need any more reasons than that?"

Dudley didn't answer. Instead, he glanced at the clock on the wall. 12:59. If what Harry said was true – and for some reason, Dudley was not inclined to doubt his cousin's words in the slightest – then the protection, whatever it was, would end in one minute.

Harry saw it too. "You should wake your parents," he said. "I suspect that Voldemort will be here soon."

Dudley didn't protest, only stood and walked out of the kitchen. He started lumbering up the stairs just as the clock struck one. An instant later, he heard three distinct pops, like gunshots. He started and looked wildly around, but he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. And then his mother screamed.

Dudley tore up the remaining stairs, distantly hearing Harry running up after him. He burst into his parents' room, only to find two figures bent over the bed. They both held sticks and they were somehow causing both of his parents excruciating pain. His mother was shrieking, and his dad's bullhorn roar could probably be heard through the entire street. Suddenly, his father went still as a jet of green light erupted from one of the sticks and hit him straight in the chest. Dudley knew without being told that his father was dead. He screamed and threw himself at the man, but the attacker only laughed coldly. He aimed his stick at Dudley and said, almost lazily, "Crucio."

A jet of red light shot towards Dudley. A split second before it hit him, Harry shoved him aside. The light hit him instead, and Harry screamed in agony. Dudley watched in horror as his cousin collapsed, convulsing with the pain. The man turned back to Dudley, and he knew that he was going to die. Apparently all of his earlier thoughts about making something of his life were about to become useless. He wouldn't _have_ a life anymore.

Suddenly, the two figures stiffened. As one, they vanished with almost deafening cracks. Dudley stood there for a long moment after they'd left, petrified with fear. Only his mother's moans woke him, and he rushed over to her. Harry, who had apparently gotten over the pain, walked stiffly to join him. Tenderly, Dudley took his mother's hand, shuddering as her blood ran through his fingers. She was still alive, but only barely. He could see that her breathing was labored and that her heart struggled to beat. He looked desperately at Harry. "Do something!" he pleaded.

Harry shook his head. "I can't," he whispered. He appeared to be mesmerized by the sight of his aunt. As though in a dream, he reached out and helped her lie down as comfortably as possible. Dudley was amazed to see that there were tears running down his face. Dudley's own eyes were dry.

His mother looked up at Harry, her green eyes open and desperate. "Harry," she gasped. "Take care… of him." She paused, gasping for her last morsels of air.

"I will," Harry promised.

"I loved… her. Always… loved…" She fell back, her heart grinding to a halt and her breath stopping abruptly.

"Mum!" Dudley shouted. "_Mum_!" He clung to her hand, willing her to wake up again. She _couldn't_ be gone! It wasn't possible! He turned furiously to Harry. "It's all your fault!" he screamed hysterically. "It's your fing fault that she's dead! If it wasn't for you none of this would be happening!"

Harry didn't deny it. He only stood there, his hands raised slightly above his aunt's freshly deceased body. Dudley could see him struggling to regain his composure, and he hated him even more for that. A woman was _dead, both_ of his parents were _**dead**_, and he was trying to stay calm!

"What's wrong with you!" he shouted, dropping his mother's hand and diving at Harry. "She's _dead_!"

Harry nodded, easily sidestepping Dudley's clumsy attempts to kill him. "She is," he agreed. "And I wish to dear God that she weren't. But I can't afford to lose control. There were three of them, remember?"

"Oh, there were far more than three of us," a silky voice drawled from the doorway. Both boys spun. Dudley gaped at what he saw. A man was standing on the threshold, wearing a black cloak and a hood. His hands were covered with leather gloves, and he was holding one of those sticks. But his face… his face was covered in a mask made of a shining, dead-white skull. Behind him was a row of people dressed in the same fashion, all holding sticks.

Harry looked from them to Dudley and back again. Suddenly, he seemed to make a decision. "Dudley, hold on to me!" he shouted.

"Oh, I don't think so," the figure said smoothly, moving to intercept Dudley as he started towards his cousin. "You're not going anywhere, Potter."

"Go to Hell, Malfoy," Harry spat, ducking under his arm. "That's where you belong anyway." He grabbed Dudley's arm and closed his eyes. And then, Dudley's world went completely white.


	2. Sanctuary

Chapter two: Sanctuary

Dudley opened his eyes shakily, not at all surprised to find himself in a street facing a row of houses that he'd never seen before. After all, the rest of his world had turned upside down, so why not his physical location? Harry was still gripping his arm tightly, and now his cousin started shaking him. Hard. "Dudley, listen to me!" he said urgently. "This is very important!"

Dudley turned blank eyes on his cousin, wondering just what Harry was going on about.

"Repeat after me: The home of Harry Potter is located at number 12 Grimmauld Place."  
"The home of Harry Potter is located at number 12 Grimmauld Place," Dudley repeated dully. Then, he uttered a short, high-pitched scream of terror. Another house was appearing! He could _see_ it forming, could see it squeezing itself in between numbers 11 and 13.

"Welcome to my inheritance," Harry said dryly, dragging Dudley through the gate and into the house. He pulled out his wand and spoke a single, vicious word at a set of curtains that were hanging for no apparent reason in the middle of the wall. "Come on." Dudley followed him mindlessly farther into the house, not internalizing any of what he was seeing. Harry led him into what was undeniably a kitchen, and Dudley sat. "Tea?" Dudley nodded. Harry moved efficiently around the room, assembling ingredients and setting a pot of water to boil on the stove. He handed Dudley a mug containing a single teabag, then said, "I'm going to contact people who can help us. You'll know when the water's ready." Dudley nodded and Harry walked out of the room.

He came back several minutes later to find that Dudley hadn't moved, despite the urgent whistles of the teakettle on the stove. Harry grabbed it and expertly poured two cups of tea. He handed one to Dudley, which the boy took without realizing it. Harry sat down opposite his cousin and took a sip of his own tea, watching Dudley closely. After a moment, he observed, "You're taking this a lot better than I did."

"How do you know how you took it?" Dudley snapped, coming slightly out of his stupor. "You were a baby!"

"My Godfather died two years ago," Harry informed Dudley. "I remember that well enough."

Dudley didn't answer, staring into his teacup. They drank in silence for a long moment. Suddenly, there came the sound of a commotion at the front door. Harry got swiftly to his feet, drawing his own… _thing_ as he did so.

"Who is it?" Dudley whispered, suddenly irrationally terrified of anyone who wasn't Harry.

"I think that they're friends," Harry said shortly. "Stay here and I'll make sure." He walked out of the room, leaving Dudley alone once again. Dudley continued to stare into his mug of tea, doing his best not to think of anything. He knew that if he allowed his brain to start working again, then he would see scenes of blood and horror, and he'd had more than enough of those to last a lifetime.

Harry returned, followed by a redheaded man and a woman with bright green hair and eyes. "This is my cousin," Harry said. "Dudley, this is Mr. Weasley and Tonks." The two adults nodded to Dudley, who only stared at them. Were they… but they had to be! And how had they gotten into the house? Harry was explaining the events of the night – no, it had been morning for hours now – but Dudley didn't pay attention. He couldn't afford to pay attention. If he did, then he would relive it, and he didn't want that.

Once Harry had finished his story, the man turned to Dudley. "I don't know if you remember me," he said. "I came to see you several years ago. May I offer my deepest condolences."

Numbness was once against replaced with anger. "I don't want you condolences!" Dudley raged, standing up so quickly that the chair he was sitting on almost fell over. Only a rapid intervention on Harry's part saved it. "It's all your fault anyway! It's because of you that they're gone!"

Mr. Weasley looked at Harry, who shrugged slightly. "His parents are dead," he offered. "They were killed by people he doesn't understand. Under the circumstances, I would be doing about the same thing."

Tonks smiled wryly. "You would be throwing hexes left and right, too," she added. "I think it's just as well that he's a muggle."

Harry nodded, and caught Dudley's arm adroitly just as he was about to punch him. "Dudley, stop it!" he said firmly. "Hurting us isn't going to help matters the slightest bit. Go upstairs and find a bedroom. It's two thirty in the morning, and you'll cope better after a night's sleep."  
Dudley glared at his cousin, but Harry didn't relent. Finally, Dudley wrenched his arm out of Harry's grasp and stomped up the stairs. He found several rooms, but all of them seemed full of things that he didn't want to have to deal with. Finally, he pulled open a door and found a room with a single bed and nothing else. Relived to find a normal room, he collapsed onto it, realizing only then just how tried he really was.He woke up screaming three hours later. He pulled the covers off and ran from the bed, looking at it in horror as a _thing_ eyed him reproachfully. It wore what appeared to be a tea towel and nothing else, and its eyes were as big as tennis balls. Its huge bat-like ears were standing straight up in the air, and it seemed to be glaring at him.

Harry burst into the room, obviously coming to investigate the scream. He stopped short when he saw the thing and his face turned icy. "Get out, Kreacher," he said flatly. "I thought you were at Hogwarts."

The thing shifted its glare to Harry. "Kreacher sensed that his pathetic excuse for a Master had returned. Kreacher lives to serve the owners of the House of Black."

"Shut up," Harry spat. "I didn't ask for you to be here! Go back to Hogwarts!"

The thing snapped its fingers and vanished with a crack, leaving Dudley staring after him in astonishment. "What… what was that?" he managed.

"Kreacher," Harry said shortly. "He comes with the house, unfortunately. If you ignore him, he usually goes away."

"But… what is he?" Dudley pressed. He wasn't staying in a house full of things he didn't understand!

"He's a House-Elf," Harry said with a sigh. "Just think of him as a willing slave, and you've just about got House-Elves down. Oh yes, and this one hates all of us with a passion."

"Why?" That question again, the one that he seemed to be asking incessantly.

Harry sighed again. "Dudley, it's five in the morning. I'd really rather not get into the matter right now, if you don't mind."

Dudley couldn't really fault this logic, and he only nodded. Harry eyed him for a moment, then added, "We'll do our best to help you, you know. You're not as alone as you might think." He left before Dudley could think of a suitable insult to throw at him. Dudley slowly lowered himself onto the bed, wondering just how long he would stay here and what else he would find.

To his amazement, he was able to sleep for the rest of the night. When he opened his eyes again, daylight was streaming through the window. He blinked and glanced at his digital watch. Nine o'clock. He suddenly remembered that he'd planned on going out with the gang tonight. He chuckled without humor. Apparently _that_ was out of the question now. He wondered suddenly whether he would ever see the gang again. A nagging feeling told him that he wouldn't.

He wished that he were wearing clothes other than his pajamas, but that couldn't be helped. He was hungry again, and he sensed that the only place he was going to get food was the kitchen. With a sigh, he walked slowly down the stairs, hoping that there was decent food in this house.

His cousin was sitting in the kitchen, along with the two adults he'd met the night before. Dudley frowned, looking hard at the woman. He could have _sworn_ that she'd had green hair! But now it was such a bright shade of pink that it hurt his eyes. He looked away.

Harry looked up as Dudley came in, and remarked, "There's breakfast on the counter if you're hungry."

Dudley moved greedily towards the counter as Harry poured himself a cup of tea. The other two already had mugs in front of them, and they were talking intensely. Dudley listened despite himself, curious as to what they were talking about. 

"What are you going to do with him?" the man – Mr. Weasley – asked, glancing at Dudley.

Harry sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. "He obviously can't go back to Privet Drive, and I'd honestly rather he not stay here."

"Why not?" Tonks demanded.

"Bad memories," Harry said shortly. "If he stays here, then I have to. I would give rather a lot not to have to do that."

Mr. Weasley nodded his understanding. "I suppose he can come to our house," he said after a moment. "Molly would be happy for the guest, but you say that he's bothered by magic…"

Harry grimaced. "That's not really his fault," he said. Dudley frowned at his place. Harry was _defending_ him?! His world had just tipped over yet again. "His parents did most of that."

Tonks shrugged. "The fact remains that the Burrow probably wouldn't be the best place for him. You're _sure_ he couldn't stay here?"

Harry snorted. "You want to get him away from magic?" he asked cynically. "This isn't really the place for it, you know."

Dudley felt that it was time to assert himself. They were talking about _him_, after all. Surely he got a say in this! "Don't I get consulted?" he asked, swallowing a mouthful of toast.

"No," Harry said shortly, not looking at him.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because you and I have basically changed places here, and I never got the choice either," Harry snapped.

Tonks looked from one to the other with interest. "Maybe having the two of you in the same house might not be the best idea in the world."

"We lived together for sixteen years, I think we can do it for a bit longer," Harry said, a little reluctantly. "He comes of age next year – muggles do it at eighteen, not at seventeen like we do – and he'll be on his own then. Until that happy day, I suppose I'm his legal guardian." The look on his face made it plain just how much he was looking forward to that. Dudley grimaced. He wasn't too keen on it either, come to think of it!

"You'll both just have to stay here until we get this figured out," Mr. Weasley said firmly. "I'll floo Molly and tell her. She'll be disappointed, but she knows what it's like."

Harry looked hopefully at Mr. Weasley. "Do you think Ron could come?" he asked. "I could use a bit of friendly company."

"What about me?" Tonks demanded. "Aren't I enough?"

Harry grimaced. "You are," he agreed. "Unfortunately, you have Order things to do, don't you?"

Her eyes widened, and she jumped up, knocking her chair over in the process. "I completely forgot!" she exclaimed. "I promised Mad-Eye I'd let him know what was going on! Lovely to see you Harry, nice to meet you Dudley." Dudley scowled at her, but she was in too much of a rush to notice. "Arthur, tell Molly that I might just take her up on that invitation to dinner."

"We'd be glad to have you," Mr. Weasley assured her. Tonks grinned once more at Harry, then vanished with the crack that was getting far too familiar for Dudley's taste.

"Where did she go?" Dudley demanded.

"I assume she went to the Ministry of Magic," Harry answered. "That's where her boss works."

"What does she do?"

Harry sighed. "She's… I guess you could say she's a sort of policeman," he said finally.

Mr. Weasley looked interest. "A please-man?" he asked in excitement. "I've heard of them! They're like muggle aurors, aren't they?"

Harry winced, but nodded. Dudley frowned at Mr. Weasley, wondering if he was retarded or something. He hadn't even said it right!

"I'd better tell Molly," Mr. Weasley said. "May I, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Go ahead," he said. "You don't really need to ask me, you know."

Mr. Weasley nodded, and vanished around the corner and into the living room. Dudley looked at Harry over his second piece of toast. "So where exactly are we?" he asked bluntly.

Harry sighed. "It's a long story," he admitted.

Dudley shrugged. "We have time," he reminded Harry. "And I'm more than a little curious, since this seems to be where I'm staying."

"All right," Harry said reluctantly. "As I said, it's a long story. It begins with this house…"


	3. Althea

Chapter three: Althea

Harry's friend arrived about an hour later, bursting through the fireplace and skidding to halt just in Dudley's line of sight. Dudley started violently, shying away from the idea that he had actually come _out_ of the fireplace. That was, of course, impossible. Unfortunately, as Harry's story had recently shown him, Dudley was going to have make himself a whole new list of what was impossible and what wasn't. It seemed that he had fallen into a group of people who routinely made things move without using their hands and were in the habit of flying on _broomsticks_, for God's sake! He shuddered to think what his parents would think.

He violently shoved that thought out of his mind. He couldn't think about his parents, not yet. It was still too raw, and he refused to think about it. He would, he assured himself, just later. Much later. In the meantime, he had a boy who liked to shoot out of fireplaces to deal with.

The boy in question was eyeing him with open curiosity, and Dudley started to scowl at him. Then he stopped himself. He was going to have to spend possible the next year in the company of people like these. It wouldn't do to make them all his enemies. Instead, he looked down. He wasn't ready to smile at _them_ yet, no matter what his situation.

Harry grinned at the boy, and they embraced heartily. Then, Harry gave a slightly edited version of the night's events, making it sound as though he and Dudley hadn't been there when Dudley's parents died. Dudley was grateful – again – for Harry's tact. He didn't even want to _think_ about what his mother had said.

The boy whistled. "That's harsh," he observed, running a hand through his mop of red hair. "Both of them at once. And to Death Eaters at that."

Harry grimaced. "I know," he agreed.

The boy looked at Harry in surprise, then nodded his understanding. "You would," he agreed. "So you're living here?"

"Looks like it," Harry agreed. "By the way, this is my friend Ron Weasley. Ron, I take it that you've figured out that this is my cousin?"

Ron nodded. To Dudley's gratification, he didn't try to offer his deepest sympathies or any of that rot. Dudley was nowhere _near_ ready to accept sympathy. Instead, he turned back to Harry. "Hermione should be here soon," he said. "She just had to call her parents and tell them. Dad wanted to watch her use the… telephone." He said the last word carefully, almost as though he were trying to remember it. Dudley wondered if language retardation ran in his family. He didn't _seem_ to be demented, but Dudley would be the first to admit that he knew nothing at all about demented people.

Harry and Ron soon appeared to forget that Dudley was present, and they began talking rapidly about things that Dudley couldn't understand. After a moment, he stopped trying. Obviously they had much to catch up on, and Dudley was not included. He pretended that he didn't care. They could talk about their weird tricks all they wanted, _he_ wasn't going to listen!

Half an hour later, there came the sound of people at the front door. Harry and Ron stood instantly, both drawing their… _things_ and moving towards the door. Harry glanced back over his shoulder. "Dudley, stay here. If things get ugly, then go out the back."

Dudley scowled. "I can take care of myself," he protested.

"Not against wizards, you can't," Harry snapped. "And you don't have a choice. I'm in charge here, and you will do as I say."

"Says who?" Dudley asked sulkily, but Harry didn't hear. He and Ron walked out of the kitchen, sticks extended, and went slowly into the main hall. Dudley waited, watching as the seconds ticked away on his watch. Where were they? He didn't hear anything that sounded like a fight, but maybe they'd been knocked out. He stood, determined to find out what had happened. Besides, he resented being treated like a child. _Harry_ wasn't the Heavy-weight champion, Dudley was! So why should he stay behind just because he didn't have a fancy stick that shot colored lights out of it?

Just as he was walking towards the main hall, Harry and Ron came back, trailed by two girls. Dudley recognized one of them as one of Harry's friends. He started to sneer at her, then stopped himself again. He was clearly going to have to spend at least a little while with these people, and he would rather not be the object of more of their weirdness. He looked away.

Harry shoved the unknown girl into a seat, then leaned against the counter. Ron and Hermione flanked him. 'Like his loyal servants,' Dudley thought, sneering inwardly. 'I wonder if they can even _think_ for themselves anymore.'

"Who are you?" Harry asked the stranger.

She looked straight at him, and Dudley noticed that her eyes were very large and brown. At the moment, they were narrowed in a combination of suspicion and fear. "My name is Althea Gaunt," she said. Her voice was soft and slightly hoarse, as though she'd been screaming. Dudley frowned.

The three others obviously saw something in her name that Dudley didn't, because they all stiffened. Ron scooted back as far as the counter would allow, glaring at Althea. Harry, by far the best at hiding his emotions, only surveyed her coolly, while Hermione had narrowed her own eyes in concentration.

"Gaunt?" Harry asked. "You would be related to Merope Gaunt, I imagine?"

Althea didn't pretend that she didn't understand what they were saying. "Distantly," she agreed.  
"How distantly?"

She frowned, counting on her fingers. "Let me think. My father was her third, no, fourth cousin. Therefore, I am her… fifth? I think so." She paused, then added, "That makes me the Dark Lord's fifth cousin once removed, in case you were wondering."

Harry, who obviously _had_ been wondering, only nodded. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I've come to help you," she said. "I suppose you won't believe me, though."

"Why should we?" Ron burst out. "You haven't given us any proof of who you are, you know."

She rolled her eyes. "What kind of proof am I supposed to give?" she demanded. "It's not like I carry genealogy charts around with me, you know. Especially not when I'm going to talk with the enemy."

"The enemy?" Harry repeated.

"Yes, the enemy. That would be you, I suppose? Harry Potter?"

He nodded.

"My family is, for obvious reasons, not very happy with you. I decided that it would be best if I not carry proof of who I was or where I was going. Some people might take it the wrong way, you understand."

Dudley was struggling to hide a grin. He liked this girl a lot, even if she was… one of _them_.

Harry obviously didn't share Dudley's feelings. "And which way did you intend?" he demanded.

"I have information that you can use," she said, leaning forward slightly on her chair. "Information that could be vital to defeating the Dark Lord once and for all."

"And why should we trust _you_?" Ron demanded, eyeing her with suspicious loathing. "How do we know they're not just lies?"

She wiped a hand across her face wearily. "Ask me under Veritaserum, put a truth spell on me… there are ways of knowing if someone is telling the truth, you know."

"There are also ways to get around those measures," Harry reminded her. "How do I know that you haven't cast some sort of spell on yourself to make you resistant?"

She sighed. "Well, even if there were such spells, which there aren't, I couldn't possibly have done them on myself. I'm a squib."

Once again, this produced a noticeable reaction from the three. Ron's eyes widened, and he eyed her with almost morbid curiosity. Hermione nodded, as though it explained everything, and Harry only blinked once, filing the information away for future use.

"How old are you?" Hermione asked, taking over the questioning.

"Eighteen," Althea answered.

"How did you get here?"

"I walked."

"How far?"

Althea shrugged. "I don't know. I don't usually carry maps with me either, you know. Most of the time, I'm with other people who have a far better sense of direction than I do."

"How did you find us?" Harry demanded. "This house is warded."

"Your secret-keeper is dead," she reminded him. "Anyone who knew where it was before Dumbledore died is the new secret-keeper. Mungdungus Fletcher owed me a favor."

Ron looked horrified. "I am going to kill him!" he raged. "What was he thinking?"

"Not much," Althea assured him. "Whiskey does wondrous things to the brain, don't you think?"

Harry put a hand out to stop Ron from launching himself bodily at Althea. "Since you're here, you're going to have to stay," he said reluctantly. "Dudley, find her a room."

Dudley scowled. "I am _not_ your servant," he reminded Harry. "Do it yourself."

Harry glared at him. "While you are in _my_ house, you will do as I tell you," he snapped. "Do it!" His hand twitched briefly towards his stick, and Dudley understood. He repressed a shudder at the sight of it. Unwillingly, he heaved himself up and started up the stairs. Althea followed him. As they left, Dudley glanced over his shoulder: the three were already deep in conversation. He scowled and kept climbing.

"And who would you be?" she asked, keeping up easily. "I know who the other three are, but I've never heard of you. Are you new?"

"No," Dudley said shortly. Then, feeling as though some other explanation were needed, added, "I'm Harry's cousin."

"Oh." They climbed in silence for a little longer. Then, she added softly, "The muggle?"

He stopped. He wasn't sure what that meant, but it had sounded like an insult. He clenched his fists. "No!" he said fiercely. "I'm _not_!"

She looked at him in surprise. Suddenly, understanding dawned in her face and she started to giggle. Dudley stared at her. He was used to people running away in fear when he started on them, not bursting into laughter. He hesitated, unsure of what to do. Finally, she gained enough control to ask, "You don't even know what that means, do you?"

"Of course I do!" Dudley said defensively. There was no way he was going to let a _girl_ get the better of him! What would the gang say?

"No you don't," she insisted. "Otherwise you'd admit to being one!"

He only glared at her, willing her to go on without actually saying it.

"A muggle is a nonmagical person," she explained, starting up the stairs again. "As far as I know, Potter only has one cousin. I assume that that's you."

Dudley nodded, disconcerted. What was he supposed to do now? He had just vehemently protested that he was one of the things he hated the most in the world? If he'd been back home, he would just have socked her until she swore not to talk, but he wasn't, and he suspected that he wasn't allowed to sock people anymore. He growled softly. He _hated_ being under his cousin's command!

"So, I ask you again. You're the muggle?"

Unwillingly, he nodded. He was amazed to see her grin. "Thank you God! It's nice not to be the only one, for a change!"

He frowned. "What do you mean?" he demanded. "I thought you called yourself a squid, or something."

She laughed again. "Not a squid, a _squib_. Basically, that means that my parents are wizards and that I'm not. In essence, I'm as much a muggle as you are, though I grew up in a wizarding household."

"Oh." They climbed on. Finally, Dudley stuck his head through a door into a fairly bare room. Althea looked in after him, then wrinkled her nose.

"That's _it_?!" she demanded. "Even my room at home was better than _this_, and I had the worst room in the house!"

Dudley shrugged. "I haven't explored the rest of the house yet," he admitted. "We've only been here less than a day."

She sighed and examined it again. "I suppose it will do," she said grudgingly. He stepped aside, letting her take a closer look. There wasn't much to see. It was bare of all ornamentation, containing only a bed and a large mahogany dresser. She went over to it and started pulling open drawers. They were all empty.

"What do you think they're talking about?" she asked, moving back to the bed and sitting down.

"You, I imagine," Dudley said, staying where he was.

She grimaced. "I suppose I should have expected this," she muttered. "After all, what else could I expect, considering my name."

Dudley frowned, wondering how to ask what was wrong with her name. He supposed that he understood why none of them trusted anyone – seeing masked men murder his parents had shaken a lot of his trust in strangers too, – but he didn't understand what it had to do with her name. Finally, he said as much.

"You really don't know anything, do you?" she asked, staring at him with exasperated curiosity.

He frowned. He resented that! "I do so," he argued. "But I know things that matter, not things that go on in my cousin's other life."

She snorted. "You appear to have landed smack dab in the middle of your cousin's 'other life,'" she observed wryly. "You'd better get used to it."

He scowled.

"As to my name," she went on. "It's the name of the mother of the Dark Lord. Do you know who _he _is, at least?"

Dudley frowned. "Harry mentioned something about a terrorist," he said slowly. "Voldi something, I think. Foreign sounding name, at least."

She frowned. "Don't call him by his name!" she insisted. "Only the bravest of wizards dare do that, and you're not one of them."

"So what should I call him?" Dudley demanded.

"Some people call him You-know-who," she answered. "Which is silly. Others stick with He-who-must-not-be-named, which is far too long. I just do The Dark Lord, though that might be a family thing."

Dudley sighed. "He's the one who killed Harry's parents, isn't he?"

She nodded. "Exactly. You can see how being related to him might cause a problem around here."

"True," he agreed. "And so they're probably wondering just how to keep you without your giving them away."

She grimaced. "You're probably right," she agreed.

A moment later, Hermione popped her head into the room. Her face was white, and her eyes were wide. "Althea, Dudley, come down. We need you."


	4. Secrets revealed

Chapter four: Secrets Revealed

"You need _me_?" Dudley asked blankly.

She nodded and vanished down the stairs again. Dudley and Althea regarded each other skeptically for a moment, then pounded down in their turn. Or at least, Dudley pounded down. Althea walked gracefully and daintily down the stairs, making Dudley look even clumsier than he had before. He glowered at her.

More people had appeared in the kitchen while he and Althea were talking. Dudley frowned, picking out Mr. Weasley and a person he _thought_ might be Tonks. Or at least, it sort of looked like her. Her hair was electric blue, though, and she was wearing a jeans miniskirt and a bright blue tank top. He looked away.

The crowd of people silenced as the two of them entered, leaving Dudley even more nervous than he had been before. Althea held her head up proudly and appeared not to notice the stares directed her way. Dudley followed in her wake, wishing that he were anywhere but there.

Harry nodded as Althea took a seat at the kitchen table. "You said you had something to tell us," he said.

She glanced around at the crowd. "I _said_, I have information that could help _you_, not that I'm going to give up secrets that could kill me to anyone who asks."

Harry waved this away impatiently. "I trust all of these people," he said firmly. "And, if you have something that I can use to defeat Voldemort," Althea grimaced and looked away, "then everyone here has a right to know." Dudley frowned. Why had he been invited? Obviously Harry didn't consider him able to defend himself, so why had he insisted on having Dudley here?

Althea shook her head stubbornly. "I have no way of trusting you," she said stubbornly. "This isn't something that can be told to spies." Her eyes darted through the crowds of people, stopping on a tall, thin man with greasy black hair and a sallow complexion. He glared at her, and she looked away.

"Get on with it, girly," a voice growled. Dudley searched for the speaker, but couldn't identify him.

"We have Veritaserum ready, in case we need it," Harry told her flatly. "Talk now of your own free will, or we will make you tell us."

She laughed softly. It wasn't a pretty sound, and it caused Harry to glare harder. "Reduced to threats, are you?" she asked. "Your threats don't scare me, Potter. I've lived through worse than you any day."

"Althea, we're trying to cooperate with you," Hermione said. "You came to _us_, not the other way around. Please don't make this any harder than it needs to be."

Althea sighed. "I won't say it in front of this many people," she insisted. "You three and Dudley. That's all."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione shoved a discreet elbow into his ribs. He glared at her. "Fine," she said. "We can go into the living room."

They made their way out of the kitchen and into the living room. Dudley could hear the commotion erupt behind them, but he paid it no attention. Hermione pulled out her stick and aimed it at the door to the living room, murmuring something under her breath. The lock clicked shut, and Dudley edged as far away from her as he could.

"You've got us here," Harry said. "What is it that's so urgent?"

"I know where he is," Althea said simply. "And I know how to get in."

"How?" Harry's eyes were bright, and he was leaning forward eagerly. Obviously he wanted to know this _very_ badly.

"He's on Salisbury Plain," Althea said.

Hermione frowned. "Why there?" she asked.

"The stones shield it from scrying," Althea explained. "It gives him extra protection, as well as being symbolically powerful."

"And how do we get in?" Harry interrupted, still eager.

"_You_ can't," Althea said flatly. "None of the three of you can."

Harry looked outraged. "And why not?" he demanded.

"Because you're wizards," she explained patiently. "Don't you know _anything_ about Salisbury Plain?"

Ron scowled. "It's a field with stones in it, isn't it?"

She rolled her eyes. "For most people," she agreed. "For those who know better, the Plain is a place of increased magical perception. In Gryffindor-speak, Weasley, that means that it detects magic and can increase a person's power."

"How does it do this?" Hermione asked, ignoring Ron's muttered obscenities. Dudley wondered what a Gryffindor was and whether it was an insult he could use.

"I can only assume that the power that the ancient Celts found and marked with the stones connects with the power in the wizard and increases both exponentially based on the levels of power in both," Althea said. Ron frowned and opened his mouth, but Hermione stopped him.

"So why is it that wizards can't go in?" she asked.

"Think, Granger!" Althea snapped. "You're supposed to be the brains of the group, aren't you? With the power provided by the circle and the Dark Lord's own, there are wards around that place that will go off the moment anyone with magic steps through them. Obviously, then, no one with magic can fight them there."

"And so what do you suggest?" Harry asked.

Althea stared at him. "What makes you think I'm suggesting anything?" she demanded. "I said I had information, not some grand plan to save the world. I thought that was your job."

Ron scowled. "So why did you have to make such a fuss about that?" he demanded. "You could just have said it."

"I know for a fact that there is at least one traitor in that crowd," Althea said. "If I spoke in front of him, then the Dark Lord would be out of there before you can even _start_ thinking of a plan."

Harry frowned. "Who is the traitor?"

She shook her head. "I'm leaving that for _you_ to figure out," she said. "You _should_ have realized before."

Ron scowled at her and would have objected, but he was stopped yet again by his friends. "Look," Harry said. "How do I know that what you just told me is the truth?"

She shrugged. "Back to that again, are we?" she asked sarcastically. "I suppose you could force-feed me Veritaserum. Or, you could just trust me."

Ron snorted loudly.

"Just a suggestion," she agreed. "Veritaserum tastes _vile_!"

"It's tasteless," Harry objected.

"Oh? Then it must just be the stuff that they mixed into it," she said with a grimace.

"Who?" Harry asked instantly.

From her smug smile, Dudley guessed that Althea had been aiming for just that question. "Various relatives," she answered airily. "They fed it to all of us at one point or another. Usually when we'd done something wrong, of course, but sometimes just to make sure it worked."

"And did it?" Hermione asked.

Althea smiled crookedly. "Granger, I don't think I need to answer that question, do I?"

"Veritaserum always works," Harry said. "I learned that long ago." Althea nodded, but Dudley thought that he could detect the slightest traces of a mocking smile on her lips. He tuned out the rest of the conversation – he had absolutely _no_ idea what they were talking about, and he wondered just why he was here in the first place – and started watching Althea herself. She was quite pretty, he realized. Her brown hair had been cut short, framing her delicate features nicely. Her eyes seemed to take over half her face, but they were hard and stubborn. Her chin was strong, and there was a slight flush in her cheeks. She wore shabby but good quality clothes and shoes, and the way she talked and conducted herself suggested that she came from a family with money and high standards of education.

Ron had left the room, and he was back now, holding a small vial full of what appeared to be water. Althea watched as he moved closer to her, the small smile still hidden at the corners of her mouth. She allowed him to feed it to her, then turned back to Harry. Dudley was alarmed to see that her expression had gone vacant and passive.

"What have you done to her?" he demanded, taking a step forward.

Harry hardly even glanced at him. "Truth-potion," he said shortly. "I'm not taking any chances."

Dudley didn't answer. He didn't know what they were trying to do, but the look in Althea's eyes was scaring him. He'd only known her for a few hours, but she was the closest thing to a friend that he had here, and he didn't like seeing her treated this way.

Harry interrogated her closely, but her answers didn't change. Finally satisfied, he leaned back. "It should wear off in a few seconds," he told her. "I'm sorry I had to do that to you."

"No you're not," she said. Dudley relaxed slightly. She sounded much more like the girl he was getting to know, not like the zombie that had been speaking earlier. "But thanks for the thought anyway." Her eyes were rapidly returning to their normal, suspicious dimensions. "Are you done with me yet?"

He nodded. She walked over to the door and tried to turn the handle. It was locked. She turned back to them. "And are you going to let me out?"

Hermione pointed her stick at the door and murmured another word. The handle sprang free, and Althea strode out of the room. Dudley followed her as quickly as he could. At least _she_ didn't do things in weird and abnormal ways. She didn't object to his following her up the stairs, and even went so far as to make space on the bed for him.

"That went well," she observed.

"_Well_!?" he spluttered. "They poisoned you!"

"No they didn't," she assured him. "Veritaserum isn't poisonous unless ingested in massive quantities. Besides, I'm used to it. Soon, it might not work on me anymore."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I _mean_," she said, a trifle impatiently. "That I'll have developed an immunity to it."

"Oh. You didn't tell them that."

She snorted. "Of course I didn't! I'd rather stay alive a little longer, if at all possible."

"Why would they kill you?"

"Because, without a way to ensure that I'm telling the truth, they have no control over me. Who knows what I could be doing?" Her voice was bitter, and Dudley understood the sentiment perfectly.

"I won't tell them," he promised.

She looked at him in surprise. "If I thought you would, I wouldn't have told you," she informed him. "We muggles need to look out for each other."

He nodded, grinning very slightly.


	5. Romance rekindled

Chapter five: Romance rekindled

Harry was gone the next day. Althea seemed to know where he'd gone, because she spent all day walking through the house, a smug smile on her lips. Without anything else to do, Dudley followed her. He was (very) slowly getting used to being in a place where the pictures moved and talked, but there was no denying that Althea herself, with her wry wit and utter lack of… _it_, was incredibly refreshing. Amazingly, she seemed to feel the same about him – or maybe she just felt sorry for him – because she appeared to enjoy his company. At any rate, she didn't make it known that she wanted him to leave.

Despite being taken up with Althea, Dudley could hardly fail to notice that someone else had joined their group. An infernal shriek went up at about quarter to noon, causing Dudley to start violently and look around for someone he knew. Althea too was startled, though she hid it far better than Dudley did, and her hand twitched unconsciously towards her pocket. Dudley looked at it suspiciously. That was where everyone else kept their sticks, yet she'd said she didn't have one. What else was in there?

She caught his gaze and pulled out a tiny knife. Dudley had owned enough illegal weapons to know that this one was very good quality and extremely sharp. "When you live in a house full of wizards, it's good to have a bit of extra protection," she said, grimly returning the object to her pocket.

Dudley nodded, correctly interpreting her expression as one that discouraged all questions. They headed towards the main entrance, arriving just in time to find a redheaded girl shout, "SHUT _UP_, YOU STUPID HAG!"

Dudley starred at the painting that had been revealed. An incredibly ugly woman – one whose appearance did not benefit in the least from the look on her face – was trying to out-shout the redhead. The girl pulled out her stick and roared, "SILENCIO!"

The portrait stopped shouting, though Dudley could see that the woman depicted was trying. The girl grimly pulled the curtains shut again, then turned to face Dudley and Althea. Dudley noted that she hadn't put her thing away.

"Who are you?" she asked suspiciously. "I don't know you."

"It's all right Ginny." Hermione came out now that the shouting was done. "Let's get into the kitchen and we'll explain.

Ginny followed Hermione into the kitchen, and Dudley and Althea glanced at each other. With a sigh, Althea led the way into the room.

Hermione made rapid introductions and explanations and, when she was done, the girl didn't look any less wary. "And where are Harry and my brother?" she demanded.

"Scouting," Hermione answered wearily. "They insisted on going this morning. Or, actually, _Harry_ insisted on going and Ron insisted on following him. Since Ron is still there, I can only assume that they came to some kind of agreement."

Ginny nodded. Althea snorted softly. Ginny turned on her, brown eyes blazing. "You have something to say?" she demanded, taking a firmer grip on her stick.

"I do, actually," Althea answered, not taking her eyes off Ginny for an instant. "Obviously neither of them were paying attention when I told them about the wards."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. "They know perfectly well that they can't get in. But it's nice to see it for yourself."

"There's nothing to see," Althea said flatly. "You need a password even to _start_ accessing the camp, and then a dark mark and _then_ special permission. He's learned caution."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Why didn't you tell us this yesterday?" she demanded.

Althea shrugged. "I assumed that you would be smart enough to realize that you couldn't just waltz in there. Then again, you're all Gryffindors, aren't you?"

"What's wrong with being a Gryffindor?" Ginny demanded.

Althea shrugged again. "Let me put it this way, Weasley. Had I been able to go, they would have put me into Slytherin."

Ginny grimaced. "Like I couldn't have figured _that_ one out on my own," she muttered. She turned back to Hermione. "You think they've been caught?"

Hermione shrugged. "I trust Ron not to let them get killed," she said. "Harry… well, let's say that I'm _very_ grateful that Ron caught up with him."

As though the sound of their names had called them, both boys materialized suddenly in the room. Dudley shuddered and scooted away.

"Get a grip," Althea hissed, moving aside to let him through. "It's not like they hurt you with it. Not yet, anyway."

Dudley scowled at her. "Shut up," he growled.

She shrugged. "Just letting you know," she said. "You might need the energy later."

Harry advanced on them and, the moment Althea had quieted, he roared, "You lied to us!"

Althea fixed him with a mocking glare. "I did nothing of the sort," she said. "You tested me under Veritaserum, remember? As you yourself observed, nothing counteracts the stuff."

"Then why wasn't there anything there?" Harry demanded.

"Because you have no way of seeing it," she said dryly. "And if you'd stop being the savior of the wizarding world for a moment, you would have realized that."

"Explain," Harry said through clenched teeth.

She rolled her eyes. "You _are_ dense, aren't you? Passwords, Potter."

"Passwords?"

"Yes, passwords! You've heard of those, I imagine?"

"Why didn't you tell us about them before?" Ron asked, scowling at her.

"I assumed that you were smart enough to realize for yourself that there would be safeguards around it. Obviously I was mistaken."

Harry was about to answer her, but Ginny gave a highly annoying little cough in the background. Both boys swirled, faces contorted into identical grimaces. When they realized who the girl was, their stances changed completely.

"Ginny?" Harry whispered.

Ginny rolled her eyes, looking eerily like Althea. "Yes, Harry. Ginny. Remember me?"

"What… what are you doing here?" he stuttered.

"I came to help you, you twit!" she said. "Just _try_ telling me that I might get hurt!"

"Ginny," Ron said. "Does Mum know you're here?"

Her eyes were rapidly turning angry. "Isn't anyone going to say, 'Gee, nice to see you Gin?' I came to _help_ you, and all you can say is, 'Does Mum know you're here?' Of _course_ she knows I'm here! You think I'd just go off without telling her? Give me more credit than that, Ron."

"Sorry," he said, flushing. "I wasn't thinking."

"Obviously," she said tartly. She turned to Harry. "And do you have anything to add?"

He had been staring at her. Now, he took a step forward. "Ginny," he whispered.

Her face softened, and she answered, "I'm here, Harry." A moment later, they were embracing passionately. Dudley decided that this would be a good time to use. Althea started to follow him, but Ron caught her arm.

"Not you," he said quietly. "We still need to talk with you."

Althea glared, but retreated, leaving Dudley to climb the stairs and close himself in his room alone.

There was a knock on his door a couple hours later. He grimaced, but heaved himself off the bed and went to open it. His expression changed when he realized who was standing there. He backed up, allowing Althea to come fully into his room. She closed the door behind her, then leaned against it, her eyes closed.

"I am glad that _that's_ over," she said, not opening her eyes.

Dudley grunted. There wasn't anything to say about that.

"Is he always like that?"

Dudley shrugged. "How should I know?" he asked, a trifle bitterly. "Apparently I don't know him as well as I thought I did."

Her eyes opened. "Don't worry about it," she counseled. "You never really know someone until you live through a crisis with them."

"And you know this from experience, I imagine?"

She nodded. After a moment, she added, "It was my brother."

"Oh."

She eyed him, her brown eyes daring him to ask. He took the bait. "What happened?"

She shrugged. "He joined the Dark Lord. He killed a couple people. I ran away."

"How long ago?"

"A couple months. It was after that that I decided to take what I knew and skidadle. I'd rather be alive, you understand."

Dudley nodded. Some impulse made him tell his own story. "He hasn't been afraid of me for a while now, but seeing him giving orders to others is a bit… startling."

She laughed harshly. "You could put it that way," she agreed. "Damned disturbing, I'd say."

"That too."

There was a long silence. Then, she moved briskly away from the door. "Right. You are going to be educated."

Dudley looked at her uncertainly. He didn't like the tone of her voice in the least. "What do you mean, educated?" he asked.

"You are living in a house full of wizards – apart from myself, of course – and you're terrified of magic. I am going to change that."

He backed up. "No," he said, shaking his head. "No, that's not a good idea."

"Of course it is," she said briskly. "You can't spend your life afraid, you know."

"I won't," he assured her, backing up still more. "But I don't need to change now!"

"Yes you do," she said firmly. "I am getting _very_ tired of your complete inability to deal with anything magical." He underscored her words by wincing. "You see what I mean?"

"It's not _my _fault!" He knew full well that he was wining, but it didn't matter. If it was what was needed, then he would do it.

"No, but it's your fault that you haven't tried to change it. Come on, I promise it will be painless."

He scowled. "I didn't ask you to meddle in my life, you know," he pointed out.

"No one ever does," was the pointed response. "People do it anyway."

Dudley scowled harder, but he was rapidly realizing that it was a useless exercise. She had him cornered by this time, and she suddenly grinned. "Besides, you can insult paintings to your hearts content."

Dudley's eyebrows shot up. Suddenly, the thought of learning about… _it_ seemed much more appealing.


	6. Under attack

Chapter six: Under attack

The four main conspirators continued to plan for much of the next several weeks. Dudley became accustomed to seeing people appear and disappear out of thin air, as well as communicating through fireplaces. He even learned to say the words, though he was greatly helped in this last by Althea, who threatened to do irreparable harm to certain delicate parts of his anatomy unless he shaped up. He believed her, and started, hesitantly at first, to use proper terminology. He didn't let himself wonder what his parents would have thought.

He had allowed himself to relax as the days passed and no new attacks came. Maybe they really were safe after all. Althea wasn't so optimistic.

"You just wait," she told him, after he'd told her what he thought. "They're just waiting to get us when we don't expect it." Her hand brushed the pocket that contained her knife. "You'd better be ready."

"How do you know they'll come?" Dudley demanded. "I thought no one could get into this place."

"Unless they're told by someone who's been here before," Althea corrected. "That's how I got in, after all."

"Oh. Why don't you tell them that?"

Althea snorted disdainfully. "I'm not going to do all of their thinking for them," she informed him. "Sooner or later they'll realize it."

Dudley frowned. "But isn't that dangerous?"

She shrugged. "I lived eighteen years in danger. I can survive longer. Why, are you afraid?"

"Of course not!" he said forcefully. There was no way he was going to appear less than her!

"I didn't think so." She grinned suddenly at him, and he was startled to feel his body respond. He firmly told it to behave. It didn't listen to him, and he hurriedly excused himself. He was sure that the slightly mocking tone to her grin was only his imagination.

She was right, of course. Unfortunately, she hadn't been so lucky when she predicted that the four would think of it before it happened. They were caught as unaware as Dudley himself when the attack finally came. Althea was the only one who was even remotely prepared, and Dudley was sure that she saved all of their lives.

It was, rather typically, the middle of the night when they finally got around to attacking. Dudley remembered wondering whether they did it on purpose, and whether terrorists needed sleep. Apparently not, since they seemed to make a habit of attacking people at midnight.

"Wake up!" Althea hissed, shaking him hard.

"Wh…?" he mumbled, turning over and trying to get back to sleep.

"Get _up_!" she repeated, slapping him hard.

That woke him up, and he glared at her. "What did you do that for?" he demanded.

"There are people here, and I don't think they're friends," she said bluntly. "I thought you might want to know."

"Did you tell the others?" Dudley asked, sitting up.

"Of _course_," she said in exasperation. "But they don't think they need me. 'Go wake Dudley and stay safe,' were Potter's words, I believe."

Dudley, remembering the edge on Althea's knife and the confidant way she handled it, snorted. "_He_ doesn't know you very well."

"No, he doesn't," she agreed. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Downstairs to find out what's happening," she said, dragging him out onto the floor. "Are you coming or not?"

"I'll come," he said. They walked as quietly as possible down the stairs, emerging just in front of the kitchen. No one seemed to be up yet. "Where did you say these people were?" Dudley asked, scanning the room for signs of life.

"They came in the back," Althea answered. "Otherwise they would have set off the painting."

Dudley grimaced. "True," he agreed. "You'd think we could hear them, though."

She shrugged. "There are ways to hide your trail," she told him. "Let's go." He followed her through the deserted house, reflecting that, a month ago, he would never have imagined himself here, following an older girl to ambush people attacking his house. Though, come to think of it, his former self wouldn't have objected much to the following and older girl part. He grimaced and hurried to catch up.

They rounded a corner and stepped into a battlefield. Harry was fighting with a figure in a black cloak, sparks flying out from both of their wands and shooting in every direction. Ron and Hermione were watching, obviously ready to intervene if necessary, but leaving to it Harry to do the actual fighting.

Althea drew Dudley back into the shadows, whispering, "Stay here."

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

She grinned ferraly. "I'm going to kill the bastard." She left before Dudley could ask her which one she meant. He watched as she slipped out of the corner and around behind Ron and Hermione. Dudley saw the glint of her knife as she drew it silently. She advanced towards the two combatants, obviously waiting to get the best shot. Just at that moment, Harry aimed a particularly vicious spell at his enemy. The figure dodged, but not fast enough, and the curse grazed his temple. He screamed, and the mask fell off, revealing his face. Dudley, still hidden in the shadows, could see him clearly. Blond hair, gray eyes, a delicately pointed face… he didn't look any older than Dudley. He was obviously terrified, and Harry obviously knew it.

"Malfoy," he said derisively. "Why are you here?"

Malfoy didn't answer him directly, contenting himself with shooting another spell at Harry. Harry dodged, and the jet of light hit a vase, making it explode.

"You'd think Voldemort wouldn't trust you with things like this again, seeing how you failed with Dumbledore," Harry said, panting slightly. Dudley could just see Althea, knife raised, listening intently.

Malfoy's face contorted into a snarl of hatred. "Shut _up_!" he screamed. "You know _nothing _about what happened, Potter!"

"I was there," Harry told Malfoy flatly. "I saw it all. You didn't kill him. You couldn't. I doubt Voldemort was too happy with you."

Malfoy's unconscious wince proved Harry's words. Harry shifted slightly, allowing the moonlight from the open door to illuminate Malfoy's features. Draco winced at the sight of it. Scrapes and bruises covered his skin, leaving no area unmarked. Dudley had seen enough beatings – and delivered enough himself – to know that marks like that didn't end at the face. He knew that Malfoy's entire body would look just like his face. Harry knew it to, because his breath hissed sharply beneath his teeth. "What happened to you?' he breathed.

Malfoy scowled. "What do you think?" he demanded, and Dudley thought he could just detect a slight tremor in the other boy's voice. "You know what happened on the tower, you should know what happened to me afterwards. The Dark Lord… does not like failure."

Harry nodded. "So I'm your last chance, am I? Sorry to have to disappoint you."

Malfoy's scowl turned into a hate-filled snarl. "I will _not_ fail!" he screamed, aiming his wand at Harry. "CRUCIO!"

Dudley recognized the curse, and he waited for the telltale jet of red light. Nothing came. Malfoy was starting to look slightly panicked, and he shouted, "_CRUCIO!_" Still nothing happened.

Harry was eyeing him almost pityingly. "You really have to mean it," he said. "Otherwise it won't work."

"You think I don't mean it?" Malfoy demanded, his silvery-gray eyes meeting Harry's green ones.

"Or you're too afraid of the consequences," Harry amended. "It's up to you to decide, isn't it?"

"I'm not afraid of _you_," Malfoy spat.

"You should be," Harry said coldly. "Expelliarmus."

Malfoy's wand flew out of his grasp, and Harry caught it. "Looks like you've failed again, Malfoy. Will your father be able to get you out of it, do you think?"

Malfoy's face was rapidly contorting in almost insane terror. "The Dark Lord will kill you!" he screeched, his voice cracking with fear. "Don't think you've won!"

Harry only eyed him steadily. "I am going to kill him first," he said firmly. "And you will tell him that."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "You're letting me go?" he demanded. "Why?"

"Because you're not worth killing. Because I don't want to dirty my hands with your blood. Because Voldemort might do it for me. Go."

"You will pay for this, Potter!" Malfoy's eyes traveled around the group, stopping in amazed horror as he spotted Althea. She eyed him grimly and took a firmer grip on her knife. Suddenly, Malfoy began to laugh. It was a harsh, desperate sound, one that made Dudley shudder. "You don't pick your allies well, Potter," he crowed. "Some of them will stab you in the back the moment they have the chance!"

"Go to Hell, Malfoy," Harry said icily. "It's where you belong, anyway."

Still laughing harshly, Malfoy vanished with a crack. Althea shook her head, pocketing her knife. "You should have killed him," she said flatly.

Harry shook his head tiredly. "I don't kill any more than I have to," he said.

"It would have been a mercy stroke," Althea said quietly. "What you saw today? That's just the beginning." She shuddered convulsively, her eyes slightly haunted. "I would give my soul never to go through half of what Draco will go through now."

Ron frowned. "How do you know what he's going to go through?" he asked suspiciously.

She looked at him steadily. "Weasley, I lived with my own family for years. I know what it's like."

"What did he mean, about stabbing us in the back?" Harry asked suddenly, his eyes narrowed.

"He's insane," Althea pointed out. "Not that I blame him in the slightest."

"So you're not a traitor?" Ron demanded.

Althea rolled her eyes. "If I were, do you think I would tell you?" she asked in disgust. "You _really_ need to figure out better ways of interrogating your prisoners."

"So you _are_ a traitor!" Ron said triumphantly. "I knew it!"

"If I were a traitor, Weasley, you would all be dead already," Althea told him. "There are ways to kill someone without magic, you know. You would do well to keep that in mind. Now, if you're all finished here, I'm going to go back to bed." She turned and strode out of the room, heading purposefully for the stairs. Dudley trailed her, not saying anything. There wasn't anything that he could say to alleviate the dull horror in her eyes, and he knew her well enough to know that his intervention would not be appreciated. He kept silent, thinking his own, slightly morbid, thoughts.


	7. The consequences of leniancy

Chapter seven: The consequences of leniency

Everyone had heard about the attack three hours after it happened, and the house was teeming with people. The main question asked, apparently, was how had Malfoy gotten in. Althea was conspicuously absent, as was the tall man with greasy hair, but no one seemed bothered by this. Ron claimed that Althea had probably run off now that they were "on to her," and the greasy-haired man – whom Dudley learned was named Snape – had "business that doesn't concern you, Weasley." Dudley grinned at the look on Ron's face when he heard that last.

He realized soon enough that he wasn't needed downstairs, and he set off into the rest of the house, looking for something to do. He spent a couple hours insulting the ugly portraits to his heart's content, after making sure that they didn't screech at him, then wandered off to find Althea. He hadn't seen her all day, and he was starting to get worried. Not that he thought she couldn't take care of herself! He shivered slightly at the thought of what she would do to him if he even _thought_ that. But she was his friend, and he wanted to make sure that she was all right.

He knocked hesitantly at her door, wondering if she was going to stab him for interrupting her. But, after a long moment, she opened it a crack. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice hoarser than usual. Dudley suddenly realized that, impossible though it seemed, she had been crying.

"I came to see you," he answered.

"I don't need anything," she said crisply, moving to slam the door in his face.

He stuck one foot into it, preventing her from shutting it completely. "Let me in," he said.

"No. Go away."

He sighed in exasperation. "Althea, just open the damn door!"

Her face was rapidly turning cold with hard anger. "Dudley," she said icily. "If you do not leave right now, I will kill you. Do you understand me?"

He nodded.

"Go."

He left, hating himself for his cowardice and secretly relieved. He'd had no idea what to say, just that he knew he had to offer.

He had his next shot at saving her that evening. This time, he told himself firmly, he would insist on seeing her and demand to know what was wrong. She wasn't in her room, nor anywhere else, and, in the end, he gave up in disgust. If she didn't want to be found, she didn't want to be found, and he supposed that there wasn't anything he could do about it.

It wasn't until the next night that he had a chance to talk with her again. He banged on the bathroom door, wondering when its occupant would leave. Whoever it was had been in there for _hours_! Finally, tired of waiting, he pulled out a piece of wire that he'd filched from the kitchen and skillfully picked the lock. He barged in, and stopped dead. Althea was sitting on the rim of the tub, completely naked. She looked up as he entered, and the fury in her brown eyes was plain to see.

"I… I mean, I'm…" Dudley stuttered, doing his best not to stare at her. He started to open the door to leave, but her voice stopped him.

"Wait."

He turned back to her, wondering what she wanted.

"You're not going to leave me alone, are you?" she asked.

He shook his head.

She sighed. "I suppose that this is as good a time as any. Sit." She gestured to the toilet. Slowly, he sat down, ordering himself not to stare at her exposed breasts. "Go ahead and look," she told him. "You had to find out sooner or later, I suppose."

Dudley frowned, wondering what she meant. He'd known that she was a fully developed woman for a while now! Then, as he moved past her breasts, his eyes widened in shock. It _wasn't_ her female charms that she'd been talking about. It was the scars. Hesitantly, his eyes traced the countless lines that ran across her midriff and around to her back, where he was sure they continued unhindered. His gaze flicked down to her legs, and he saw that the marks extended all the way down her thighs.

Slowly, his eyes rose to meet hers. She was watching him with a hint of a challenge, as though daring him to pity her.

"Wh… what happened?" he managed finally.

"My family 'happened,'" she snapped.

Suddenly, understanding dawned inside him. It was so _obvious_! "You were with… with him, weren't you?" Dudley hadn't decided what to call the wizard they were all afraid of yet, so he stuck with 'him.' It worked as well as anything else.

She nodded. "Yes," she said flatly.

He pursued his theory. "And they tortured you?"

She shrugged. "Not for information. They did it for fun, mostly. Apparently it relieves tension."

He felt insanely protective of her in that moment, as though only she existed for him, as though she were the only thing that mattered in the entire world. "I won't let anyone hurt you again," he swore, holding her eyes with his.

She smiled slightly. "Thank you," she whispered. Then, mustering a little of the defiance that was so much a part of her, she added, "Not that you'll have much say in the matter."

"Just wait and see," he said fiercely. Then, without realizing why he did so, he reached up and hugged her. She stiffened, then slowly put her own arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder as she did so. Dudley held her, realizing with a start that she was crying. She didn't say anything more, and neither did he. There wasn't anything to say, after all.

Not everyone benefited from the tension that had invaded the house. Though he didn't ever learn the details, he gathered that Ginny and Harry had quarreled fiercely, ending up in Ginny storming out of the house and vowing not to come back. Dudley didn't see his cousin for several hours after that, and he didn't blame him. He got the feeling that Ginny was more than a little similar to Althea, and he would rather not cross either one of them.

Soon, though, there were more pressing matters to deal with. The beginning of the school year was rapidly approaching, and Harry was obviously worried about it. Finally, Ron made him talk.

"Are you going back or not?" he demanded impatiently.

Harry looked at him in surprise. "Why shouldn't I?" he asked.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Because you've been brooding about it for the last week," he said. "And anyone can tell that you're not sure. Spit it out!"

Harry sighed. "I… it's just, we _know_ where Voldemort is! We should be able to go and attack him yet… well, we can't."

Ron nodded. "Tell me about it," he said sympathetically. "But what about school?"

Harry shrugged. "At least here it feels like I'm doing _something_, not just sitting and learning useless lessons. Besides, without Dumbledore…"

"Oh," Ron said, understanding dawning in his face. "So that's it."

Harry nodded.

"You know we'll go with you, right?" Ron asked.

Harry scowled. "No!" he said. "You should go to school and sit your NEWTs! Your mum would _murder_ me if she found out that I had made you drop out for your last year."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I'm almost seventeen," he said. "It's about time I started making my own decisions, don't you think?"

"But…" Harry began helplessly.

"Don't even start," Ron said firmly. "We're staying with you, and that's final."

Harry scowled, but Dudley couldn't help noticing that he looked rather relieved. "It'll be dangerous," he warned.

Ron scowled. "When has that ever stopped us?" he demanded.

"Have you even _talked_ to Hermione about this?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"Of _course_ I have!" Ron snapped. "You think I'd just make an offer like this without consulting her first? Give me _some_ credit!"

"Sorry," Harry mumbled sheepishly.

There was a moment of silence, then Ron asked quietly, "What about Ginny?"

"What about her?" Harry asked sharply. "She made her choice. It's nothing I can control, you know."

"You could talk to her," Ron pressed. "That might be just what she needs."

Harry shook his head stubbornly. "If she's willing to admit that she's wrong, then I would be delighted to have her back. But unless she accepts that she made a mistake, it's not going to work."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Harry, maybe she's just as stubborn as you are!" he snapped. "Have you ever thought of that?"

"Of course I have!" Harry said. "But this time she's wrong!"

Ron growled softly in irritation. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Finally, he said, "When you can talk without arguing, come and see me." He wheeled and stalked away, leaving Harry standing alone in the kitchen. Dudley decided that this would be a good time to leave as well. As quietly as he could, he left the room and headed upstairs, wondering if he would ever have such a thing as a normal life again.

Normality. The word sounded so good right now, yet so painful. It made him think of his parents, which, in turn, made him remember that night. He scowled, trying his best to shove those thoughts away. Again. He hadn't allowed himself to come to grips with what had happened, despite Althea's not so gentle pushes in that direction. She assured him that, unless he bled the poison out, it would fester and haunt him all of his life. He assured _her_ that he didn't appreciate her meddling and that he would deal with it on his own terms. She was not impressed, but she was less persistent that he'd thought, and appeared to be leaving him to his own devices. It should have made him suspicious.

He closed the door to his room, wishing with all of his might that he could go back in time and erase the past. Though, considering that erasing the past would mean that he wouldn't ever have met Althea, maybe that wasn't the best way to do it. He leaned back and shut his eyes, trying to picture anything but what was hanging out in the corner of his mind. He knew that it was a useless exercise, but he had to try, if only to save his peace of mind.

He steadfastly avoided the images of those last few moments, and instead concentrated on his life before. He wasn't sure if he'd really been particularly _happy_. Actually, that was a lie. He knew perfectly well that what he had been was, of course, insanely jealous and spoiled. Jealous of everyone – including his cousin – and convinced that they had it better than he did. That would then cause him to pester his parents for more gadgets – which they would always get him – in the hopes of feeling superior to everyone else. It had worked, occasionally, but he could never repress the jealousy that consumed him every time Harry received anything from his friends. He vehemently denied that he wished he were his cousin – never would he fall _that_ low! – but there was no denying that it might be nice to have friends like Harry's.

Angrily, he shook his head. Pontificating on his previous existence was as pointless as wishing he could change the past. It was what it was, and that was all. Still, he couldn't quite forget the fact that he was probably enjoying himself more here – despite all the terminally weird people around him – with Althea than he had had in the last several years. It was a disconcerting thought, and he made up his mind not to worry about it. It wasn't like worrying was going to change anything, after all.


	8. Cunning plans 1

Chapter eight: Cunning plans (1)

"Where's your cousin?" Althea demanded, cornering Dudley in the hallway on the way down to the kitchen. "I haven't seen him all day.

Dudley shrugged in irritation. "How should I know?" he snapped. He was hungry, and she was in his way. "Go ask one of his friends."

"They aren't here either," she said, still not letting him by. "And I'm not letting you through until you tell me. I know that you know."

Dudley scowled. "What makes you think that?" he demanded.

She rolled her eyes. "You're his cousin, aren't you?"

"That doesn't mean that I know anything about his whereabouts. I could care less about where he is."

She eyed him suspiciously for a long moment, then stepped aside with a slight sigh. "Then who _can_ I ask?" she demanded, following him into the kitchen.

"Why are you so interested, anyway?"

She shrugged. "I suspect he's probably off trying to pick a fight with the Dark Lord's minions," she said. "And that would be a supremely bad idea."

"Why? It'll keep all of them busy, after all."

"Have you learned _nothing_ in the month we've been here?" she demanded harshly. "If we draw his attention, then he will kill all of us!"

"I thought he couldn't get in here."

"Unless someone tells him. May I remind you that there is a traitor here?"

"Well, you won't tell us who it is, so how are they supposed to know?"

She hissed in irritation. "Listen. My sense of self-preservation is _quite_ strong. If I were to tell who it was, then he would know and he would kill me. I do not want that to happen, so I merely brought their attention to the fact that there is one. I would have thought that Granger, at least, would have figured it out."

"Thank you so much for you discretion, Miss Gaunt." Both started, turning to see Snape looming over them. His face was arranged in a cold smile, and he held his wand lazily, though it didn't waver from Althea's back.

She sneered at him, though Dudley could detect the slight tremor of fear in her sneer. Her hand closed around her knife. "You're welcome," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"I would have thought that was obvious. You could compromise my disguise, so you must be eliminated."

"So you're going to kill me?" she asked.

"Of course." He leveled his wand at her, opening his mouth to speak a spell that would undoubtedly kill her.

Dudley erupted from the table, putting his slightly rusty boxing skills to use. A solid fist connected with Snape's middle, causing the man to double over momentarily. It bought Althea enough time to pull out her knife and jab it into Snape's wand arm, cutting deeply.

"You are going to die, you witch," Snape wheezed, doing his best to straighten and curse her again.

Althea shook her head. "I'm not a witch," she said. "And I'm glad of it." Her knife flashed again, leaving yet more blood running down Snape's arm. He winced, clutching the area with a pale hand. She eyed him coldly. "Better pop back to your master and tell him that you've failed."

Snape glared at her. "Don't think you've won," he said. Dudley scowled. This man was getting repetitive. He punched him again, driving him to his knees.

"Get out," Althea said coldly. "Or I'll cut more than just your arm."

Snape glared at her, but the double threat of her knife and Dudley's fists seemed to convince him. He vanished with a crack, leaving a small pool of blood on the ground where he'd been.

"Thanks," she told Dudley, her voice shaking slightly as she lowered herself back into the chair. He realized with a start that she'd been far more afraid than she'd let on.

He grinned. "I did say I wouldn't let anyone hurt you," he reminded her.

"So you did," she agreed, smiling slightly. "Thanks anyway."

He shrugged. "So _now_ are you going to tell them about the traitor?"

She sighed. "No."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because, even though I doubt he'll attack me again, I am _not _going to do their thinking for them," she said vehemently. "I told them where the Dark Lord was, you'd think that would be enough!"

Dudley nodded. "True," he agreed. "They might not see it that way, though."

She sneered. "You think this bothers me _why_?"

He shrugged. "I didn't, really."

"Good." She finally put her knife away, then glanced at Dudley's sandwich. "Anything left for me?"

The three came back around the middle of the afternoon. All traces of the encounter with Snape had been cleared away, and Dudley and Althea were in the midst of a game of Speed, which she was winning, much to his irritation.

Harry raised his eyebrows at the sight. Ron frowned, and Hermione struggled to hide a grin as Althea slapped down her last card. As she did so, she asked, "So where have the three of you been?"

Ron scowled. "That's none of your business," he snapped.

She rolled her eyes. "You've been up scouting again, right?"

"How did you know?" Harry demanded.

She rolled her eyes. "Where else would you be?" she stretched back in her chair, watching them with bored curiosity. "Did you find anything interesting?"

"No," Ron said flatly. "No thanks to _you_, either."

She shrugged. "You could just _ask_, you know."

"Would you tell us?"

"I might. I still don't think that it's a good idea for you all to go up there, though."

"Do you expect us just to sit by and watch while he kills people?" Harry demanded, advancing towards her.

"I expect you to at least _try _to stay alive!" she snapped. "You are the hope of the wizarding world, much as I hate saying it. If you get yourself killed because you're being stupidly heroic, then you've doomed us all."

"Why would you care?" Ron snarled. "You're working for him anyway."

Althea stood and, in one fluid motion, drew her knife. She'd washed the blood off it, but it still looked wickedly effective. "For the last time, Weasley. I am not working in any way shape or form for the Dark Lord. I came here to escape and kill him, not to help him. If you don't get that idea into you head, then I might just change my mind."

Harry had taken another step towards her at the sight of the knife. "Where did you get that?" he demanded.

"Trust me Potter. You do _not_ want to know."

"Ron, calm down," Hermione interjected. "She _does_ have information for us, you know."

"Does she?" Ron hissed. "As far as I can tell, we're just taking it for granted that she's telling us the truth."

"I'm not lying to you, Weasley," Althea assured him. There was a long, tense moment while Althea starred Ron down. When she'd cowed him sufficiently, she turned to Harry. "Just how desperate _are_ you to kill him?"

Harry's face hardened. "It's something that I have to do," he said flatly.

She waved this aside. "That's not what I asked," she said. "Just how much do you personally want to kill him? That is, would you be willing to die to ensure that he did?"

Lips clenched, he nodded.

Her face cleared. "That's all right, then," she said.

"What are you going to do to him?" Ron demanded, his eyes hard with anger.

"Oh, I'm not going to sacrifice him," Althea assured him. "But while you were out scouting for things you can't see, I was thinking."

"And?" Ron asked, after she didn't continue.

"You need the passwords to get in," she said. "I have them. You need a Dark Mark from there. I have one. I didn't ask for it, Weasley," she added, as Ron opened his mouth. "It was given to me for my thirteenth birthday."

"Ron," Harry said quietly. His friend subsided, muttering mutinously.

"You can't get through the wards. I can."

"How?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not a witch. They'll recognize the mark and let me in, and the other wards won't be triggered by magic."

Dudley's mouth dropped open in horror as he realized just what she was suggesting. "You _can't_ be thinking of going in there alone!"

She looked at him in exasperation. "I'm not going alone. You're coming with me."

There was a shocked silence in the room. A moment later, Dudley asked, "What?"

She looked at him in exasperation. "I _said_, 'you're coming with me.'"

"Why?" he asked.

"Because fighting Dark Wizards isn't something you do on your own, and you're the only other one here who _can_ come with me."

"But what are you intending to do?" Ron demanded.

Althea looked at him for a long moment, then began outlining her plan.


	9. Cunning plans 2

Warning, this chapter contains mature themes. Just thought you should know.

-----

Chapter nine: Cunning plans (2)

"La Victoire ou la Mort," Althea whispered, her breath misting in the cold air despite the fact that it was the beginning of September. Dudley shuddered, pulling his coat tighter around his frame. They'd left Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the edge of the plain, insisting that they had to go on alone. Or at least, Althea had insisted that they had to go on alone. Dudley had only nodded dully. What they were here to do hadn't quite sunk in yet, and he was still working on autopilot.

He started violently as the mist that surrounded them suddenly lifted, revealing what looked a lot like a military camp. He stared at it, wondering yet again what he was doing here. He had no experience with things like this! What use would _he_ be in this place?

"Come on," Althea hissed. She was tense, he could hear it plainly in her voice.

"Remind me again why you picked _me_ to come with you?" he muttered as they set off towards the camp.

She scowled at him. "I _told_ you," she said impatiently. "I'm going to need help and you're the only one who can come."

He shook his head, not saying anything else. Quite apart from the fact that he still considered his presence to be useless, he had supreme doubts about her plan itself. Considering the mood she was in, though, he suspected that any word against _that_ would result in instant castration.

"Who goes?" a voice boomed, cutting off anything further either of them might have said.

Althea drew herself up, pulling authority around herself like a cloak. "Althea Gaunt and companion," she said arrogantly. "I am expected."

"Mark?" the voice asked, now more bored than wary. Obviously Althea was known here. She pulled up her sleeve and showed a tattoo that Dudley hadn't noticed before, obviously the mark that everyone was so keen about.

They were allowed to continue without further inspection. Just as Dudley was beginning to relax, a man appeared in front of them. From the look on Althea's face, she had been expecting this. Sure enough, the first words out of her mouth were, "I was wondering when you would hear, Father."

The man scowled. Dudley eyed him surreptitiously trying to find any resemblance between his friend and this man who had abused her. "I thought we had made it _quite_ plain that you are no longer welcome here."

"Ah, but I come bearing gifts," Althea said, gesturing towards Dudley. Dudley stiffened, wondering what she meant. She couldn't… could she? But she did. She nodded towards him, a cruel smile on her lips.

"You have brought a _muggle_?" the man demanded, his voice scornfully derisive. "I thought you had better taste than _that_, daughter."

"This is no ordinary muggle," Althea assured him. "This, father, is the cousin of the Boy-Who-Lived himself."

"What are you doing?" Dudley hissed. This was getting out of hand!

She ignored him. "_And_, he has been with the brat for the last month. He has heard all of his plans, as have I. I would have thought that our Master would appreciate the knowledge, seeing as how his earlier attempt to kill the boy failed."

The man sniffed. "I cautioned him against sending the Malfoy bratling, but the Dark Lord listens to none but himself."

"And that is as it should be," a familiarly oily voice said sharply. Snape himself glided up to them. He nodded to Althea, who nodded back. Dudley noticed with cold satisfaction that he had a bandage wrapped around his right arm. Obviously Althea's knife had done its job well.

Althea's father turned to him with a sneer. "Snape," he said. "I should have expected you here. What do you want?"

Snape nodded towards Althea. "_She_ is a traitor and a liar at that. I have come to eliminate her."

Althea's father looked angry. "Just because _you_ believe that to be so," he snapped, "does not make it the truth. She has information for us and you will not lay a hand on her. At least, not before the Dark Lord has had a chance to interrogate her and the muggle thoroughly."

Snape looked hard at Althea, whose gaze didn't waver. His dark eyes flickered momentarily over to Dudley, who was bewildered and beginning to be truly afraid. What if Ron had been right after all? What if Althea _was_ a traitor? Her cold gaze did nothing at all to reassure him.

"Take him away," Althea's father said, nodding to Dudley in a bored manner. "I wish to have a few words alone with my daughter."

Yet more men materialized and dragged Dudley roughly away. Before he could do more than attempt to fight, he was tied up and gagged. Only his eyes were left free. They glittered with hard fury, the best weapon he had against all consuming terror. She was going to pay for this betrayal!

They left him there for three days, during which time he received nothing but a few glasses of water. By the time they came for him, he was faint with hunger. They had to drag him to the main tent.

When he entered it, though, all of his faintness vanished, replaced by abject horror. There was a… a _thing_ sitting there. He thought that it might be human, or at least, partly human, but he wouldn't have bet any money on it. Its face was dead white, with no nose at all and slit-like red eyes. Dudley didn't even try to meet them. He knew that he wouldn't be able to. It was dressed in black robes, just like all of the others – including Althea, though hers were a dark emerald, – and it was holding a wand.

"What is this?" it asked, its voice high-pitched and cruel. Dudley suddenly knew just who this was. This was the one that they were all afraid of. He could see why.

"Potter's cousin, my Lord," Althea said. Her voice was low, and almost… _sensuous_? The Dark Lord looked at her, and the expression on his face was one of almost sickening pleasure.

"You have done well," he told her. She only lowered her eyes in what appeared to be false modesty. The Dark Lord turned back to Dudley. "Where is Potter?" he demanded.

Summoning up all of his courage, Dudley shook his head. He hated his cousin, wished that he didn't have to live with him, but there was no way he was going to give him away to this _creature_.

"Like that, is it?" the Dark Lord asked. "I warn you, muggle, I have no patience. Tell me now or die."

Dudley shook his head again, wondering if it would hurt very much. Just as the Dark Lord was leveling his wand at Dudley, Althea intervened. "My Lord," she said, putting a hand on his arm. Without moving his wand, the Dark Lord looked at her. Her brown eyes were glinting as she said, "May I have the boy?"

The Dark Lord considered, then nodded. "See it as a reward for your services," he said, lowering his wand. He gestured to Dudley. "Take him to her tent."

The two men grabbed Dudley again, towing him outside and depositing him inside another tent, presumably Althea's. The woman herself entered a moment later, dismissing the two thugs with an imperious hand motion. She eyed Dudley, though he stubbornly refused to meet her eyes.

"Make it quick," he said, carefully not thinking about what it was he was asking for.

"I'm not going to kill you," she said, her voice different from how it had been earlier. It was more like the one he remembered, and he looked up in surprise. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get you here."

He frowned. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

She shook her head. "I can't tell you. A word to the wrong person could completely ruin it all. Are you hungry?"

He nodded eagerly. She stuck her head out of the tent and barked a command to a person he couldn't see. A moment later, she reappeared with a plate of food. He didn't even ask what it was, only devoured it voraciously. When he'd finished, he looked up again. "Thank you."

She shrugged. "You're welcome," she said. Then, lowering her voice so low that he could hardly make out her words, she added, "Don't worry. I have a cunning plan, you understand."

He scowled at her, but the warning look in her eyes discouraged all questions. Instead, he looked around for the first time. The tent itself was large and fairly comfortable looking. Several ornaments in the shape of various snakes adorned the shelf in one corner (Dudley didn't even try to wonder how there could be a shelf in a tent), and a serviceable chair and table were pushed into a corner. He saw a wardrobe-like thing, as well – of course – as the bed. It was not what he'd expected of a tent, and the entire effect left him rather speechless.

It didn't last long, though, and he asked, "What _can_ you tell me?"

She frowned, considering. "Well, I could tell you that the Dark Lord is considering making me his consort."

Dudley chocked. "His _what_?" he demanded.

"His consort," she said impatiently. "You've heard of that, yes?"

"Yes, but…"

"But nothing. That's the way it is. I think he even likes me… some. I'm working on changing that."

"You want him to hate you?"

She smacked him. Hard. "No, you twit! I want him to love me!"

He looked at her, completely revolted. "_Why_?" he sputtered.

"I can't tell you that either."

He shook his head in disbelief, wondering whether or not to tell her that she had apparently lost her mind. He decided not to in the end. It didn't seem the safest thing to do, under the circumstances.

"You'll stay here until further notice," she said crisply. "The Dark Lord expects me to torture you, so you won't be able to go out."

"And are you?"

"What?"

"Going to torture me?"

"Give me _some_ credit for decency," she snapped.

He subsided, relieved. At least he would be fed here.

They stayed in the camp for the next two weeks. During that time, Althea was rarely in the tent, presumably working on getting the Dark Lord to love her. From the very brief time he'd seen the creature, Dudley suspected that this was a lost cause, but he said nothing to her. He was left alone, fed regularly, and generally treated almost decently.

He hated it.

He was constantly on his guard in case people burst into the tent, though he had quickly realized that Althea was respected enough to stop most people from barging in, and Althea herself didn't help any. He still had no idea whose side she was on, and the constant struggle of watching what he said around her and what he asked about had given him a savage headache that refused to go away. Consequently, he was in a foul temper, and she didn't even seem to notice. He hated her. He loved her. He didn't know what to do.

It was on September 11th 1997 that the Dark Lord took her for the first time. He could hear her screams through the walls of the tent, and he curled into a ball on the ground – she hadn't given him a bed, and he was in too bad of a mood to ask – covering his ears in a vain attempt to block out the sounds. He knew that he would dream about it.

As he drifted into troubled sleep, Althea's screams became his mother's, begging the man not to kill her. In the dream, the man was Dudley, and he was compelled to do it. He… he _wanted_ to do it. He leveled his wand at her and spoke a curse, feeling power surge through him and out the wand. She screamed again, louder this time, and he felt tears roll down his cheeks. The jet of light hit her, and she shrieked on last time. Then, she fell back, stone dead.

He woke to silence. Obviously the Dark Lord had finished with Althea. The tears were still running down his face, and he made no effort to slow them. He lay there, curled in enemy territory, crying for his mother and his friend, wondering whether there was any point in going on.


	10. lust

Chapter ten: Lust

She contacted Harry two days later. He watched as she did it, wondering what she was doing. He didn't ask: he had no real curiosity. All of his will to do anything had been stamped out that one, awful night. He was just mildly interested in what she was saying. It was a distraction.

She touched the charmed gold coin that he'd given her and carried on a conversation that was so soft that he couldn't hear. Finally, she put it away and turned to him. "He's coming tomorrow," she said bluntly.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"Because I'm not waiting for you," she snapped. "You'd better be up and ready when he comes, or you are staying here to my father's tender mercies."

He shrugged. "Does it matter who kills me? I'm going to die anyway, right?"

She looked at him impatiently for a moment, then suddenly seemed to make up her mind. In one swift movement, she bent down and kissed him hard. Electric shocks spread through his body at her touch and, when she pulled away, he realized that he cared very much whether he survived or not. Their eyes met, and there was a moment of perfect understanding between them. She turned away and strode out of the tent, presumably going to the man… _thing_ she was ensnaring. He began to make preparations to leave.

Two days later, both he and Althea were on hair-trigger. They were waiting for the scout to tell them that Harry Potter and entourage had arrived. When it finally did come, she closed her eyes momentarily. Then, she rattled off instructions in a brisk, businesslike voice. "Stay with me. I'll be with the Dark Lord, but with luck he won't notice you. Leave all talking to me, and do not attempt to go over to their side until I tell you to. Harry will think that both of us betrayed him, and he'll try to kill us, but you can't show any signs either of fear or of switching sides. Just leave it to me to handle it. Do you understand?"

He nodded, and she took a deep breath. He could see her pulling the persona that she had built up around her, then she swept arrogantly out of the tent. He followed her, doing his best to look meek.

She strode into the Dark Lord's tent without knocking – obviously he was expecting her. Thankfully, nobody gave Dudley a second glance. Everyone was watching Althea as she made her way towards the Dark Lord. Dudley watched her too. She was absolutely stunning, wearing her emerald robes like a Queen. Her head was help up high, and she looked neither left nor right. It was quite plain that she considered herself above everyone else in that room – except for the Dark Lord himself, of course – and that she expected everyone else to get out of her way. They all did so.

"Why is he here?" the Dark Lord hissed, pointing a slender finger at Dudley.

She smiled coldly. "I had thought to force him to witness the defeat of his cousin, my Lord," she said. "It seemed… a fit punishment."

The Dark Lord nodded, still looking at her. Dudley couldn't detect any emotion in his snake-like face, but he thought that the Dark Lord was completely lost in Althea. He wanted to grin, but schooled his features into an expression of terror. The creature would be in for a nasty surprise today.

"Potter has assembled quite an army," the Dark Lord said. "How did he know where to come?"

Althea looked around the room coldly, her eyes fixing on Snape. "You have a traitor in your ranks, my Lord," she said simply.

Snape's face went white, and he took a faltering step forward. "My Lord," he breathed. "It is not me who has betrayed you! It is _her_!" The venom in his voice apparently sealed his fate.

"Althea is worth ten thousand of you, Severus," the Dark Lord said icily. "I trust her word far above yours. Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light flew out of the Dark Lord's wand and hit Snape squarely, sending him shooting backwards. It was clear that he was dead. The Dark Lord's red slit eyes traveled around the group assembled in his tent. "Does anyone else have… objections?" he asked.

No one moved.

"Excellent. Shall we crush Potter and his followers?"

This met with a roar of approval. The Dark Lord strode out, Althea at his side, Dudley trailing behind her. As they advanced towards Harry's army, more and more masked individuals emerged, until they were leading a veritable army. Glancing back, Dudley couldn't see an end to the followers. His heart sank. How could Harry even _hope_ to win against so many?

They crossed the wards, the Dark Lord dissolving them with a single, sharp wrist movement. For the first time, Dudley could see Harry's army clearly. It looked pitifully small compared to the masses of black-cloaked people trailing the Dark Lord, but Harry didn't look afraid. Next to him, Ron's eyes fixed with surprise on Althea. Then, he whispered something to Harry, who only nodded. Dudley supposed that Ron had told Harry that they were all traitors. He found that he didn't care.

The Dark Lord stopped a few yards away from Harry. His forces spread themselves out behind him, just as Harry's were. For a wild moment, Dudley thought that they'd been transported back in time to the Middle Ages. Wars were fought like this back then. It didn't occur to him that, for many wizards, they were _still_ in the Middle Ages. It didn't matter.

"You have come to die, Potter," the Dark Lord said, raising his wand.

"I've come to kill you," Harry answered, raising his. "You can't kill me with that wand."

There was a moment of tense silence as the two surveyed each other. Despite the size of both armies – and Harry's _was_ big, despite how much it was outnumbered by the Dark Lord's – you could have heard the slightest noise for those few seconds. Then, Althea spoke. "He tries to trick you, my Lord," she said. "Do not listen to him."

The Dark Lord nodded, and screamed those same two words. Harry shouted his own, and the two jets of light met in the middle. A moment later, the Dark Lord broke contact, shifting slightly so that the beam of red light hit the person directly behind him – a man that Dudley recognized as the one who'd been there when his parents were killed. Secretly, he hoped that the man was dead. He deserved it.

A few more insults were traded, then, with some unknown signal, the two armies began to advance towards each other. The Dark Lord and Althea stood, watching as their army moved towards Harry's. Similarly, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed behind while their forces met the enemy. There was another moment of utter silence, then chaos erupted. The two masses of bodies became a single entity, each person doing his or her best to kill anyone else, regardless of the danger to themselves. It was almost beautiful to behold, though Dudley would never have thought that moments before, and he was horrified at the thought moments afterwards.

"Come," the Dark Lord said, taking Althea's hand. "Leave this for the pawns." Althea wrapped her fingers around Dudley's wrist just as the Dark Lord lifted them effortlessly off the ground. They flew over the battle, the Dark Lord and Althea proud and commanding, Dudley terrified and pitiful.

Finally, they landed facing Harry and his two friends. No, three friends. Somehow, Ginny had joined them. The Dark Lord didn't even look at her, concentrating on Harry. Althea did look at her, and the look in Ginny's eyes did not bode well for the brown-haired woman. Or for Dudley himself, for that matter.

"Let us settle this once and for all, Potter," the Dark Lord said, drawing his wand again.

Harry took a step forward. The Dark Lord did the same. The two faced each other for a moment, then the Dark Lord said, "Avada Kedevra!"

Incredibly, Harry didn't get his wand up fast enough to counter the spell. Ginny screamed as the jet of green light sped towards Harry's heart. She launched herself at him, throwing herself bodily in the path of the light. She screamed as she died, and her eyes didn't leave Harry's. Her screams formed words. Dudley couldn't understand them, but he didn't need to. There was only one thing that she could be saying.

"I love you!" Ginny Weasley swore with her last breath.

Harry looked at her in horror. "Ginny!" he whispered. His voice broke as tears ran down his cheeks. "Ginny!" It was a shout this time, and he turned to the Dark Lord, his green eyes crazy with grief. "You are going to _die_, Voldemort!" he screeched. He pointed his wand at his enemy and spoke those two words. The Dark Lord leveled his own wand, ready to counter Harry's spell with one of his own, but Althea touched his arm. He turned to her, and she kissed him. Only Dudley saw the telltale glint of her knife. As she drew away from him, she thrust it savagely into the Dark Lord's back, stepping across the gap to where Harry and his three companions were standing. Dudley followed her. The Dark Lord looked at her for a moment in incomprehension as the spell hit him

She smiled grimly at him. "Snape was right," she said simply.

He screamed in pain and anger, and then in terror as he felt himself start to decompose. Dudley watched in abject horror as the figure disintegrated.

"Say the spell now!" Althea shouted at Harry. He starred at her in incomprehension. "The spell!" she screamed again. "The locking spell!"

Harry turned back to the rapidly vanishing Dark wizard and spoke in a flat, deadened voice, "Devenos Singulus." The particles of the Dark Lord flowed towards him, entering into his body. He stiffened, not moving until all of them had been sealed away. Then, he turned and started walking towards the little group. With a sudden, sickening drop of his stomach, Dudley realized the flaw in Althea's grand plan to trap the Dark Lord in Harry's body: Harry couldn't cope with it all.

Evidently Althea saw it too, because her eyes widened in terror. "You have to kill him!" she shouted to Ron and Hermione.

They turned to her, Hermione in shock, Ron in fury. "What are you talking about?" Ron roared. "We can't kill Harry!"

"He's not Harry anymore, don't you see?" Althea asked, staring in terror at the figure of the man who had only moments before been Dudley's cousin. "He couldn't cope with the power. He's turning into the Dark Lord!"

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "That's not possible," she whispered. "Nothing in any of the research showed…"

"It doesn't matter what the fucking _research_ showed, Granger!" Althea screamed. "Ever heard of the difference between practical and theoretical?"

"You did this on purpose," Ron shrieked, throwing himself at Althea. "Your treachery was proven, and you want to kill him now!"

Althea stepped aside, allowing Ron to collide with the ground rather painfully. "You have to do it!" she told Hermione urgently. "Now, before he becomes too powerful!"

Hermione only shook her head in bewilderment. "I can't," she whispered.

She didn't have to. Another familiar voice did it for her. They all turned to see Draco Malfoy standing behind them, holding his wand with trembling hands. "You see, Potter?" he asked harshly, swaying slightly. "I can do it." He collapsed, allowing them all to see the hole in his back. Killing Harry had been his last act in this world.


	11. I do

Saving Dudley Dursley

Chapter eleven: I do

On the morning of his wedding day, Dudley woke up almost more terrified than he'd been when he faced the Dark Lord. For that matter, his soon-to-be wife could be, when the mood took her, as fierce as the once time terrorist.

She looked at him, having completely ignored all the rules that stated that the groom couldn't see the bride on their wedding morning. As she put it, they'd been living together for months, so there was no reason not to do it that day. He agreed.

"Not having second thoughts, are you?" she asked, raising herself onto her elbow.

He shook his head. "Are you?" he asked.

She grinned. "Well, when I was seven I _did_ promise myself that I would only marry a pureblood…"

He paused, translating that – he still had a bit of trouble with wizarding terminology, especially this early in the morning, – then shrugged. "I _am_ a pureblood," he reminded her.

She laughed at that. "You are," she agreed. "And you're _mine_!"

He didn't object to that, and she kissed him soundly before getting out of bed. When he protested, she only laughed again. "You're going to see me this afternoon," she reminded him. "Surely you can let me out of your sight for the morning."

He sighed. "Do I have a choice?"

"No."

He waved her out, deciding to postpone the inevitable fight that would follow his insisting that she stay. Besides, he _did_ have things of his own to do.

Six months had passed since Harry had defeated the Dark Lord – Dudley still wasn't up to calling him Voldemort yet, though Althea did – and the world, at least, the wizarding one, was still recovering. Ron and Hermione had been hit especially hard, though they'd found comfort in each other. To lose their best friend like that was bound to be emotionally scarring: even Dudley, who had hated Harry up to the end, still had nightmares about it sometimes. He didn't even want to think about what it had been like for them.

Neither one of them had talked to Althea for a long time after that day. It was finally Tonks who, tired of the tantrums, locked Althea and Ron in a room together and made them talk to each other. When they finally came out, a truce had been achieved. They would never be great friends, but at least they could talk to each other. Hermione, oddly enough, proved to be harder, and it was Ron who talked her around in the end. She was still on cool terms with Althea and Dudley, and Dudley doubted that she would ever _really_ warm up to them again. She truly was the sibling that Harry never had. He found that he didn't begrudge her that in the least.

Althea had been hailed as a hero by the wizarding press (as well as, to a lesser extent, Dudley himself), and she found it grimly humorous. At least, she remarked cynically after finding her name in the papers yet _again_, they weren't trying to knight her. Dudley had answered that the muggle government would, and both of them laughed at that. It had been nice to laugh; Dudley hadn't realized how much he'd needed it.

He climbed out of the bed and went downstairs in search of food. He made himself a sandwich and ate it slowly, wondering whether he would be able to cope with life as a married man. As he swallowed the last of the bread and went back upstairs to get dressed, he rather thought that he would.

"Do you take this woman to be your wedded wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon her your heart's deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her as long as you both shall live?"

Dudley looked into Althea's eyes as the minister read the words of the ceremony. The love he felt for her was reflected a hundredfold in hers, and his voice was slightly hoarse as he said, "I do."

"Do you take this man to be your wedded husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon him your heart's deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him as long as you both shall live?"

Althea took a deep breath, squeezing Dudley's hands as she vowed, "I do."

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride." Dudley reached into his pocket and drew out a ring, which he slid onto Althea's slim fingers. It fit her perfectly, as he'd hoped that it would. "As long as I shall live," he promised, drawing her close.

She nodded. Their lips met, and he knew that everything would be all right in the end. His family was all dead, but he would move on in time. He'd been plunged headfirst into the sea of wizardry, but he was learning to swim. And the woman standing across him, Althea Dursley, née Althea Gaunt, would be there to help him all the way through.

_fin_

_So it's over. This is the last chapter, and there will NOT be a sequel. Sorry people. Hope you liked it!_


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